This week, we were back at Everton Park and quickly split into two groups. Thanks Miriam and Aatefa for the two reports!

Litterpicking

Myself, Jo, Lucien, Craig and Clara went off to do the litterpicking at the bottom of the park. Apparently this stretch of the park is where fans from all over the world walk through from the city centre to get to Anfield so it has to look presentable to showcase Liverpool. The litter was prolific. Mostly sweet wrappers and plastic bags and lots of bottles but reward for unusual find goes to Jo who found a plastic elephant, she also found a birds nest and a clothing wrack. In an hour we collected eight sack fulls of rubbish. We took them to the community skip. On the way back to the gardens we saw a brightly painted skate park and a newly opened kids parked. It’s easy to see what a rich community Everton is and we felt glad to be able to contribute.

The Verdant Verdict: A Chronicle of Ten GoodGymers in Everton

In the heart of Everton, where the city's pulse beats a steady rhythm against the hum of nature, a fellowship of ten gathered as the day began its gentle descent into dusk. They were the GoodGymers, a modern-day band of heroes whose strength was not measured in muscle alone, but in the collective will to cultivate community. Their destination was the Everton Community Garden, a cherished green sanctuary that had called upon their aid. And as the sun cast its final, golden rays upon the garden's entrance, casting long, dancing shadows across the earth, the ten assembled, each having answered the call in their own noble fashion.

For some, the journey was a quiet pilgrimage through the amber-lit streets, their footsteps soft upon the pavement as they walked with thoughtful purpose through the cooling evening air. For others, it was a pedal-powered odyssey, wheels turning in rhythm with the city's gentle twilight hum. And for two among their number, it was a spirited run, a rhythmic pounding of trainers against the tarmac as they made their way from Suitcases, that beloved landmark upon Hope Street, their breath keeping time with Liverpool's own steady pulse, until they arrived at the verdant embrace of Everton Park just as the evening began to unfurl its velvet cloak. Yet, regardless of the path each had trodden, they all converged as one, a tapestry of diverse faces, ten unique stories, united by a singular and noble purpose. Each arrival was met with warmth, for every journey, whether by foot, by wheel, or by run, was a gift of time and energy freely offered to the community they cherished, offered not in the brightness of morning, but in the quiet generosity of an evening given to service.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the promise of an evening's noble toil. The cool breeze carried whispers of the day's fading warmth, and the garden seemed to sigh with anticipation. The session commenced not with the clang of a bell, but with the welcoming words of the Run leader, his voice carrying gently through the twilight. A special warmth filled the air as Hasan was introduced, a bright new star in their constellation of volunteers. His first session was marked by a chorus of greetings, a genuine embrace from the entire group, officially welcoming him into the fold. Every member, whether they had walked, cycled, or run to be there, offered him a beaming smile and a hand of friendship, for they knew that the strength of their fellowship lay not in how they arrived, but in the fact that they had arrived at all, sacrificing their evening hours for a cause greater than themselves.

With the pleasantries exchanged, the tone turned to one of thoughtful preparation. A comprehensive safety briefing was delivered, its words carefully chosen and heeded, outlining the careful choreography of the evening's activities. The group listened with intent, ten pairs of eyes fixed upon their leader in the fading light, understanding that the true essence of their work lay not in reckless haste, but in mindful and considered effort, especially as the evening shadows grew longer. The plan was set: a two-pronged assault on the garden's ills, with the ultimate goal of restoring its inherent grace before nightfall claimed the sky.

The fellowship was then cleaved into two groups of five, each embarking on a distinct quest, and each member, whether they had arrived on foot, on two wheels, or on two swift legs, was entrusted with a role of equal importance.

The first quintet, armed with grabbers and bin bags, began their meticulous sweep beneath the amber sky. They were the "Litter Knights," banishing the forgotten wrappers and stray detritus that had dared to mar the garden's beauty. Their work was a silent conversation with the earth, a reclaiming of its purity as the daylight slowly surrendered to dusk. Every piece of litter collected was a small victory, and every member of this group, be they walker, cyclist, or runner, contributed with equal diligence and pride, their efforts illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun.

Simultaneously, the second group of five, equipped with sturdy tools and unwavering resolve, turned their attention to a grander task. They ventured into the adjacent areas of Everton, not to fell, but to liberate. Their mission was to clear the space around "Chree Trees," a term that seemed to hum with the spirit of the old Everton, ensuring these leafy sentinels could breathe freely and stand tall against the urban sprawl. With each branch cleared and each weed uprooted, they restored dignity to the ancient trees, their silhouettes stark and beautiful against the evening sky. Every member of this group, whether they had arrived by foot, by cycle, or by run, worked with equal passion and strength, their labour a quiet offering to the encroaching night.

And so, for a time, the symphony of labour played on as the evening deepened around them: the whisper of leaves as branches were cleared, the soft clink of litter meeting its metal container, the steady breath of the runners now restored, the gentle hum of conversation, and the shared camaraderie of a team working in perfect harmony against the fading light. Each member, regardless of how they had arrived, found their place in this beautiful orchestra of effort. The journey from Suitcases, the stroll from nearby streets, the cycle from distant corners, all became threads in a single tapestry of community spirit, each thread equally vital to the whole, woven together as the stars began to peek through the darkening canopy above.

As the evening sky deepened into a canvas of indigo and the first stars began to twinkle, the two groups concluded their respective campaigns. Their work was a resounding success. The littered pathways were once again pristine, and the areas around the ancient trees were cleared, allowing the moonlight to soon dapple the ground in silver patterns. The garden and its surrounding spaces now breathed a sigh of relief, their innate beauty coaxed back to the surface by the gentle hands of their caretakers, even as darkness settled around them. And every single member, walker, cyclist, and runner alike, could look upon the transformation and know that their contribution, however great or small, had been indispensable.

The final, glorious act of the evening was the reunion. Both groups, their spirits high and their work complete, converged once more in the heart of the Everton Community Garden, now bathed in the soft glow of street lamps and the gentle light of a rising moon. They stood together, a fellowship of ten, surveying their handiwork, a transformed landscape that stood as a testament to what a community can achieve when every member gives their all, even as the day gives way to night. No distinction was made between those who had walked, those who had cycled, or those who had run; all were celebrated equally, for each had brought their own unique gift to the evening. With farewells exchanged beneath the stars, promises to return, and hearts overflowing with quiet pride, each member began their journey home, the walkers strolling with satisfied steps through the lamplit streets, the cyclists pedalling with renewed vigour into the cool night air, and the two runners turning back towards Suitcases on Hope Street, their legs carrying them home through the darkened city with the sweet fatigue of an evening well spent. But whether they travelled by foot, by wheel, or by run, they all carried with them the same treasure: the joy of service, the warmth of fellowship, and the quiet satisfaction of a job beautifully done under the watchful gaze of the evening sky.

In that moment of collective reflection, surrounded by the fruits of their labour and the gentle hush of night, one thing was clear:

It was a truly tree-mendous effort.

Seven intrepid goodgymmers braved the heatwave to lend a hand at the German Church to help the prepare for their Sommerfest.

Whilst gathering before the task we were treated to a little history lesson, learning that the post box on the street was one of only two in existence to have Edward VIII engraved on it.

We were then guided through the church to a surprisingly large and tranquil garden, a real oasis in the city. This is were Sommerfest takes place and were we given the task of clearing as much foliage as possible to make way for the guests. We soldiered on in the heat and were quickly able to see the difference!

Well done to everyone, the church volunteers were so pleased with the progress! Here's hoping the Sommerfest went well.

On a beautiful summer Monday evening, GoodGym Liverpool once again answered the call of the Friends of Princes Park.

Twelve GoodGymers volunteered for the task. One by one, we gathered along the park's main avenue near the Friends of Princes Park building. The evening carried the gentle warmth of summer, and the park seemed to be waiting for us. After a few minutes, we were welcomed by Katie and Laura, from the Friends of Princes Park group.

Liam, our task leader for the evening, gathered us together for a safety briefing and outlined the mission ahead. Beside him stood two wheelbarrows laden with gardening tools, impatient soldiers waiting to be deployed. The moment Liam finished speaking, the wheelbarrows rolled into action and our small expedition set off.

Liam and Sophie led the way while the rest of us followed, chatting as we walked through the park. Along the route, a small comedy unfolded. Bekah, believing Leo was still somewhere behind us, thoughtfully sent him the location pin and tagged him in the group chat. Moments later, Leo appeared in a selfie with the group, having already caught up.

Our destination was a quiet corner of the park, tucked away from the main lake and resting beside a beautiful pond. It was one of those hidden places where the world seems to slow down, allowing nature to speak in its own language.

Before I had even decided where to begin, everyone was already hard at work.

One team cleared grass from the roadside and used the removed turf to repair a waterlogged area nearby, transforming it into a neat and orderly patch that looked freshly planted. Another team trimmed grass and vegetation growing along the retaining wall. Several friends were amazed by how quickly everything had grown. Nature, it seemed, had been busy while we were away.

Others gathered and removed the cuttings, ensuring the site remained tidy. Everyone worked in harmony, each person contributing their own small part to a larger achievement.

Yet the loudest activity of the evening was not gardening.

It was sneezing.

The pollen season had arrived in full force, and before long an unexpected symphony filled the air. Sneezes echoed from every corner of the work site, one answering another in almost perfect rhythm. It was a concert unlike any other, performed without rehearsal and entirely free of charge.

If someone had opened a nearby tissue stand, they might have retired by sunset.

Then, suddenly, the symphony stopped.

"Frog!"

Bekah and Tsitsi had spotted a frog that had fallen from the retaining wall and was desperately attempting to climb back up. Again and again, it tried, as though the word surrender simply did not exist in its vocabulary.

The determined amphibian continued its struggle until Naser decided to intervene.

Armed with a shovel and perhaps more confidence than expertise in frog transportation, he gently launched the frog several metres into the grass. To everyone's surprise, he did not aim for the pond as expected.

The frog experienced what was likely the longest jump of its life. Perhaps it broke a personal record. Perhaps it is still telling the story to its descendants. Either way, I doubt it will forget the experience anytime soon.

Then, far sooner than anyone wished, the announcement came.

"Time's up."

What a strange thing time is.

In ordinary life, people count the minutes until work ends. Yet here, among friends, nobody wanted the evening to finish. Everyone wished for a little more time, another conversation, another laugh, another shared task.

When people truly enjoy being together, time loses its meaning.

The tools were packed away; a group photograph was taken and then came a surprise announcement.

It was Sallyann’s birthday.

Not simply a birthday.

Her sixtieth birthday.

They had arranged a small celebration, and suddenly the evening became about something much greater than gardening.

Some people may think these weekly tasks and reports are repetitive.

They are mistaken.

GoodGym is not merely a running club that volunteers. It is a place where people practice community. A place where exercise becomes friendship, where volunteering becomes belonging, and where strangers slowly become fellow travellers.

Each of us joined for our own reasons. Some came to run. Some came to help. Some came searching for company. Yet over time, something deeper develops. Empathy. Trust. Kindness. Friendship.

Shared goals bring people together.

People give those goals meaning.

That truth became beautifully visible during Sallyann's celebration.

Bekah led the presentation of gifts. Many had been carefully Organised by friends both present and absent. Behind the scenes, people like Heetu, Bekah, Miriam and others had quietly spent time planning this moment.

As Sallyann opened each gift and read each message, she tried her best to remain composed.

Above us, the sky was heavy with clouds.

It wanted to rain.

Yet somehow it waited.

Message after message, memory after memory, gratitude after gratitude. Each word touched her heart a little more deeply.

Eventually, the clouds no longer needed to rain.

Sallyann's eyes did it for them.

The first tears appeared.

Not tears of sadness.

Tears of belonging.

Tears of gratitude.

Tears that only appear when a person feels truly seen and truly loved.

It was a beautiful sight.

A group of people from different countries, backgrounds, professions and cultures had gathered to celebrate one person who had touched so many lives. Sallyann had lived through countless moments over sixty years, yet this simple gathering of friends carried a magic all its own.

As Sally later reflected:

"I joined GoodGym because I wanted to make a difference. I don't think I had any idea of the difference it would make to me, or how important it and everyone within it would become. It truly is a group that supports, helps and makes a difference. When I say that, I don't mean only the wonderful things we achieve with spades, shovels, shears, litter pickers and paintbrushes. I mean within my life, my heart and my soul. Thank you so much for being part of my life."

Those words captured something many of us already knew but perhaps had never fully expressed.

We often hear that teamwork, volunteering and shared goals create belonging, reduce loneliness and strengthen communities.

But how do we measure success?

Not in kilometres run.

Not in flowerbeds restored.

Not in volunteer hours recorded.

The true measure of success was that moment.

The moment Sallyann cried.

Tears are often the most private possessions a person has. They emerge only when something reaches the deepest places of the heart.

Those tears revealed that over the years, through leaders and members like Sallyann, GoodGym has become more than a group.

It has become a family.

In an age when so many voices preach division, communities like GoodGym quietly build unity. While others draw lines between people, groups like this build bridges across them.

Charities, community groups and organisations like GoodGym are beacons in a fragmented world. They remind us that kindness remains stronger than indifference and that belonging remains stronger than isolation.

Happy Birthday, Sallyann.

Thank you for being exactly who you are.

Thank you for reminding us of what community looks like.

May your eyes shed tears only for joy.

And may we all be fortunate enough to celebrate your hundredth birthday together.

Super interesting task for this Monday! Our presence was requested with urgency for the Bombed Out Church re-turfing of their grass area as they had a wedding in just a couple of days!

And when someone asks for help, how can we say no? So off we go to the task on a day that was threatening to rain and make the job much harder. Luckily the rain stopped right as we all gathered around the entrance for introductions and debriefing.

It was definitely a task and a half, but we were up to measure even after some of us run a half marathon the day before! We weren't going to let some dirt keep us from completing our mission.

Like a SWAT team, we deployed our divide and conquer tactic. A few of us were in charge of clearing up big clumps and get the plot even and clear for the turf.

The rest of us had the tough job of carrying dozens of turf to key locations to ease the job of rolling them out later. Initially a trolley was used, but the tactics soon changed to a human chain , which was wonderful to see pros do what they do best. Strength is doubled when helping your neighbours and specially needed this time, but the time flew by and although it was impossible to get it all ready, we definitely a big portion of it and we're glad evening was back on track.

A special thing about this task was that it made me think that, you're not just volunteering and doing some work. You're having an impact on other people lives even if not directly. You're creating space for little miracles to happen so why not create as many chances as you can.

So anyway, here's today malapropism: many hands makes the world go round

PS. Should goodgym have a bat signal?

Monday evening brought another brilliant GoodGym Liverpool session, this time on the Mount at the beautiful St James’ Gardens by the Anglican Cathedral. As always, the evening started with movement and good company, with part of the group meeting near famous Suitcases for a run before heading down to the task location together. After a warm-up and an easy run through the city, we arrived ready to get stuck in.

The gardens were waiting for a bit of love and it didn’t take long before everyone found a job to tackle. Armed with tools, gloves and plenty of energy, we spread out across the space to help tidy and refresh the area. Some of us focused on clearing overgrown sections, cutting back vegetation to help reopen parts of the pathways and make the gardens easier to enjoy. Others got busy cleaning, litter picking and generally sprucing things up to bring a bit of order back to the space.

Bit by bit, the area started to transform. Paths became clearer, corners looked brighter and the gardens felt more open and cared for. After plenty of teamwork, laughs and muddy hands, we wrapped up the session feeling accomplished before heading back, knowing we’d made a real difference to a much-loved local space.